Matters of life and death

Maelstrom #3 -Kauai, Hawaii
Originally uploaded by PatrickSmithPhotography
My kabbalistic healer is one of the wisest people I know. Not because of degrees, training, ego or intellect. But because of her ability to re-frame the ordinary in extraordinary ways.

In our session today, I wanted to understand the connection between what has happened when I've walked near death with another and how this has propelled me into Hesed of Yesod territory.
She explained to me that death/dying is a very honest place. When one is approaching death, it asks you to no longer lie to yourself. Being close to others who are getting ready to die, brings us vividly into our relationship with the ways we distort life and death.

In Hesed of Yesod territory, the parent uses the child to create a life. When the child is a certain way, then the parent can be a certain way.
For me, if I could remain small, invisible, not express disappointment or anger or sadness, then my father and mother could remain in their bubble of not feeling, not dealing, not experiencing their own pain. The "poisoned ground" of our childhood is that place in which we perceive that if we don't adjust, if we don't shape-shift for our parents, then we're gonna die. In my case, I didn't want to feel how displeased my parents were with me, I didn't want to feel their disappointment and my own. "I can't bear _____, so I'll cut off life here."

This feeling of not being able to bear the disappointment of another turned me into a person who lived by the motto: "Kill or be killed". Especially during my drinking days. If I had a hint that you were displeased with me in any way, I bailed and cut you off before you did it to me. Re-locating, changing phone numbers, eventually email addresses were all ways that I cut off life. I perceived that if I didn't, I would not survive.

My healer spoke today of the notion that in being whole, life and death are always entwined. Saying "YES" to one's feelings, needs may result in many "NO's" for other things. With a birth comes a death. Each cannot exist without the other. My healer went on to say this: "The life/death you can't bear is the one you have to kill."   I paused deeply on the other end of the phone as I took in the magnitude of this statement. I operated like this for nearly my entire life. Fear and terror permeated my every cell, coursing through my veins. I thought I would die to feel what was actually in my being, so I "killed" it off. I understand now why alcohol was so so seductive and magical. It was the potion that could kill off anything. At least this was the illusion. And when the alcohol was no longer the weapon of choice,  it was workaholism. Or exercise. Or cleaning. Or mindless TV. Or web-surfing. Or busying. Or stuffing. Or denying.
My healer further explained that operating like this exiled places in me. I deemed it so that those places were not allowed to exist.

So walking close to death with someone, I realize, is a very painful reminder about how I cut off and killed off life in all forms. This may be why the subject of death transports me back like a time machine into Hesed of Yesod. I was a little girl who lived hypervigilantly in a war zone where I thought I would die any minute.

And it is even more interesting that this discussion would be on the heels of doing 9th step amends work this weekend. I re-visited those people and situations which I formerly killed off to save myself. To be awake to my regrets and resentments and disappointments and to want to address and take ownership of my fear-based actions is yet another plea from my very soul longing to be whole. To fully embrace both life and death.

Over a cup of joe ...

Coffee made with Love
Originally uploaded by d1andonlykar1
It is a rare and cherished thing for me to have a weekend that is plans-free. A Saturday in which I could move in whatever direction I wanted, including not moving at all.

After taking a long, luxurious bath in the mid-afternoon I decided that I would take my squeaky-clean self to my favorite coffeeshop and enjoy the company of others incognito behind a newspaper. As I found a spot for myself close to the window of the cafe, my eyes were met by those of a man, roughly in his 60's. There was a sadness in them that felt familiar to me. I asked him how he was doing and he said "Not so good." I knew that this was a door he swung partially open in hopes to have connection. This very "manly man" (barrel-chested, full white beard) told me how he was missing his wife today, who died in January of a rare leukemia. His eyes welled up and he tried to brush quickly past what was happening in front of this stranger at the table next to him. All I said was "I understand." And he proceeded to tell me all about the procedures, their hopes when she went into remission, her rapid deterioration. He wondered if there was an end to grief and I shared with him that I felt like it was a continuous cycle that waxed and waned, drawing upon my own experiences of loss. He told me about her oil paintings and how he was going to make t-shirts with one of the images from his favorite painting of hers and give them out to all who knew her as Christmas presents this year. He beamed with love as he shared this. He spoke of how his missing her hits him at the oddest of times, with no rhyme or reason. Like in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery store. And how the tears just come.

He went on to tell me a host of other things too and I had this sense that he hadn't spoke to anyone in awhile and was thankful to have a set of ears to listen. And it was just as good for me. I deeply appreciated the company and the intimate conversation. I no longer had a need to get lost in a newspaper. Or to forget my own bouts of loneliness. I am always amazed at what is possible when we are awake to the presence of another human being. And equally disheartened at all the near-misses of ignoring the countless others.

Funny thing is this: I almost by-passed him because of first impressions. I saw the "McCain" presidential button on his baseball cap and immediately judged him for his open Republican-ness and assumed we'd have nothing to say to one another. It turns out this guy and I are alumni of the same university. And he swims at the pool on campus where I now teach. And he's interested in metaphysics and Buddhism.

And, more importantly, he was looking for company so that he would not feel his aloneness today. Me too.

Taming our voice

Angry kitty
Originally uploaded by Tambako the Jaguar
This morning's AA mtg discussion topic was about restraint of pen and tongue and, specifically, about how to respond and not react to people and situations.

People's shares on this topic ranged from those who held everything in to those who spewed venom as they "drank at" others. When alcohol was not in my system, I barricaded everything inside of me behind several gates with bolts. As I got good and juiced, the dam burst and it took 1 of 2 forms: crying or raging. If I had an issue with someone, it would surface under the influence of alcohol. And not only did it rear its ugly head, but it would be in the form of ceaseless ranting -- as reported to me by a number of now ex-friends. Primarily though, I was a crying drunk. Slobbering and pathetic, wallowing in deep self-loathing and pity. I am told that I frequently cried about losing people and would repeatedly tell them that I loved them and that they were my bestest friend in the world. This was my abandonment stuff through and through. Alcohol left us without any filter. It was truth serum. And it was poisonous. It is the damage from this behavior that is often the reason we need to make amends.

And even after getting sober, understanding that alcohol was only a symptom of a larger problem, this behavior may continue until we begin to work the steps. I'm just learning now how invaluable this work truly is in terms of my being able to find my "right voice".

When I put down the bottle, my voice shriveled up and returned to its former state from the years of childhood conditioning. Say things that are pleasing. Say things that will endear people to you. Don't say "no". Speak when spoken to. Don't be a "pot stirrer". These are all the spoken and unspoken messages I learned from my parents. Holding back my voice created a build-up of venom that ate away my insides. My mind was full of razors. And eventually, this crap leaked out. In the form of passive-aggressiveness. In sarcasm. In control-freakishness. In witholding. In digs. In eventually snapping at someone or something seemingly out of the blue. I was a rubber-band tightly wound, unable to hold its shape and then shooting in every direction in its unmanageable elasticity.

In Step 1 we admit to our powerlessness and our unmanageability. At 1st, this is a surrender to alcohol. Over time, you can put any defect or unhealthy trait in the place of the word alcohol. And in acknowledging this powerlessness, we actually become empowered, re-gain control.

In today's meeting, many people spoke about finding their own voice in sobriety. The one that speaks the truth of ourselves. The one that leads us to do the next right thing. My sponsor refers to this as our "God-voice". My kabbalistic healer might call this our "Future Self". It is the voice that has both kindness and directness. It is the voice that does not aim to harm but rather seeks to heal. This is the voice I'm beginning to listen to and the one I want to speak out into the world.

Amending regrets

A Sleeping Cherub in Babyland
Originally uploaded by musicmuse_ca
Amends: something given or done to make up for harm that one has caused or done.

Regrets: a troubled feeling or remorse over something one has done or left undone.


Last evening, as I took my 1st steps toward 9th step work, I learned a very important distinction from my sponsor between what are amends versus what are regrets. The list I presented before her consisted of situations that were primarily regrets. She helped me to understand how our own remorseful feelings about situations can lead us to believe that we were the sole cause of harm and therefore it must be something that we need to make an amends for. And the reality is, that we DID have a role to play when we experience regret about a situation AND the other half of the equation is that the other person also played a role.

I had several friends ( including couples) who were mutual friends of both my ex and I. After our break-up, some friends gravitated toward my ex and some toward me. In a few instances, friends that gravitated toward my ex had made attempts, in minor ways, to contact me. I made some contact as well. And then, it no longer felt safe. I didn't want to take a chance that what i shared with them would possibly be passed on to my ex. And I ended the contacts without any warning, without any notice. And I didn't return some phone calls or text messages. And over time, there was no contact made by either party. In allowing these situations to be in my awareness, I am experiencing regrets for my actions as well as the losses. At the same time, I need to be gentle with myself about "who I was" when I made those decisions and how safety was crucial for me, given that I had left an unsafe relationship.

The amending of these regrets can take a variety of forms. In some cases, it may just be to "hold" the other person(s) in prayer and myself and ask for the ability to "let go" of the regret. In other cases, it may be writing a letter to simply reach out and to say "I'm thinking of you. It's been a long time since we've been in touch" - without any expectation of forgiveness, a reply or reuniting.

Those situations which most definitely require making an amends are ones which no longer have a comfortable place in my being. Their life inside of me has expired and the space they are taking up is interfering with my integrity. These may be direct and in person and some will be a written letter that is mailed. This is about my cleaning up my side of the street and being clear. It is about giving an eviction notice to what has been kept as a dirty secret inside of my being.

And I realize too that the pull and tug inside of me that I can no longer live with that moves me toward making an amends is also filled with regret. It is the recognition that I did something to harm another and in the harboring of it inside of me, I also harmed myself.

This morning I did the 3rd step prayer as a way to "seal" my commitment toward taking the steps to make these amends, to address these regrets. I already feel the weight being lifted.

"God, I offer myself to Thee - to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life. May I do Thy will always."

Unwinding...

Another Purple Flower Droste
Originally uploaded by Josh Sommers
As I have let myself drop further and further into feeling what is underneath several layers of sorrow and guilt which had surfaced in my supervision group Monday, I experienced some powerful insights today sitting on a bench to have lunch while taking my break from a training class.

A question posed about my client who's been diagnosed with terminal cancer actually turns out to be an equally significant question for me: "Who will catch me?" This question originated in a supervision group a few months back when my client was expressing a lot of anxiety about literally falling. In the moment of recalling this, I was transported to my earliest experiences in life -- my entry into the world in a place of the unknown was probably the hugest experience of "falling", then into the laps of strangers who would adopt me, then trying to desperately find somewhere or someone to connect with in my chaotic home. I experienced terror, danger, isolation and abandonment and there was no one available to catch me, no safety net.

In kabbalistic healing, there is a territory called Hesed of Yesod. This terrain is treaded upon when we've gone through enough shatterings and are willing to sip the "poison" of what we've been raised in and know it's not going to kill us. It is our willingness to meet life as it is.

The experience of being close to death when doing kabbalistic healing with a friend's uncle brought me directly into Hesed of Yesod once before. That time around, my friend's uncle was struggling with "letting go" and was resisting leaving this earth. This triggered my entry into the "nega" (dark side) of my experience of abandonment. Both her uncle and I were having parallel experiences of our deep fear of the unknown. I recalled vividly today that I often ruminated what it would be like to die as a child. Sometimes I'd awake in the middle of the night with my heart pounding and in a cold sweat thinking about what happens when you die. For me, it felt very final. A darkness that was beyond terrifying and simply incomprehensible for this little brain.

It is no longer a mystery why I would be visiting Hesed of Yesod land given that I am in relationship to a client who is approaching death. Yet, this go-round is not nearly as intense or debilitating. I could feel being knocked off my center, shaky, yet having enough of myself to remain upright. And it is my client's reference to her own deceased father and what upsets her as she thinks about him in heaven with his eyes closed that peels away another layer for me. I spent all of my childhood, adolescence and young adulthood trying to please my father in hopes that I would feel and know his love. And his eyes were closed. He didn't see me. He could only see the bottles in front of his face as he poured the liquid down his throat.   It was too much for him to bear looking into my pleading eyes.

And the spiraling continues.

The layers of guilt. This is the moment that I become acutely aware about why I have been stalled at the 9th step of my AA program. This is the step about making direct amends. And what I realize first is this: my guilt about telling my client 4 years ago after her mastectomy that she was safe, that the cancer was gone and now having it return with enough force to kill her revealed to me a number of other situations in which I've made "false promises". These are the very situations for which I've needed to make amends and could not bring them fully into my consciousness. The most painful of these is the promise I made to my former partner's father on his deathbed -- that he need not worry about his daughter after he crossed over, as I would ensure to take care of her. And then 4 years later, I left her. And I have never really allowed for the full expression of remorse or taking ownership for my part in this situation because I could always justify my actions as a response to her substance abuse and associated behaviors. It is no coincidence that I made arrangements to do this very step with my sponsor this week.

"Who will catch me?" is not about the reliance of leaning on a human being in my life but rather it is about my own trustworthiness and my faith. It is about being in connection (Yesod) and trusting my own inner wisdom (Tiferet). It is about my relationship with my Higher Power/G-d. This is where my healing work lies. Then there is no longer a question, but rather a statement: "I am caught."

Fragile: Handle with care

Fragile
Originally uploaded by Tom Leuntjens Photography
Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.
So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just
Breakable, breakable, breakable
girls and boys.
~ Ingrid Michaelson

We always, always get exactly what we need, especially if we are open and willing to receive. This has been my experience today, in the largest of ways.

As I've begun to explore the allowance of messiness and to diligently pursue rigorous honesty, I was given a prime opportunity to do just that in my kabbalistic supervision group today. I was presenting the case about my client who's been diagnosed with terminal cancer. And, in the manner that I've become accustomed to throughout most of my life, I skirted around the "pink elephant" in the room, until it was gently brought to my attention by those who know me well. And, I was aware of my anxiousness and my sadness about this case after I exited the shower this morning and put it away in another compartment in my being so that I didn't have to let it interfere with my presentation of this case. So I could be "together". So I wouldn't appear overly emotional. The pink elephant was my guilt and sorrow over the fact that I had assured this client after her mastectomy 4 years ago, that she was now safe. That the cancer was removed. And I was reminded today that I am not omnipotent and do not have that power. To really feel the depth of this and allow these feelings to be openly expressed, to have a place to live is powerful and healing and it is also raw and vulnerable and leaves me feeling naked in a way that I haven't before.

Hiding has been the defense mechanism that I have operated from for the better portion of my life. My father could not tolerate any expression of disappointment, pouting, sadness and especially not crying. In trying to understand his world view at that time from the place of a Korean war vet who engaged in unmentionable acts, it is my best guess that any display of emotion by a child that smelled of vulnerability or helplessness would be a trigger for him. Something he could not bear because of what he held inside. This was his own version of hiding.

Hiding is a form of pretending, yet another way in which I've been dishonest -- with myself first and with others. It was a way that I didn't give myself permission to feel what I really felt because it wasn't safe. Hiding also does not allow for an intimate connection with others. It is about not letting another really see me. To be invited in to know the real me.

My sponsor speaks of the "squidgies" felt in her body that she calls her "truth-tellers". When I do pause to really listen to my body, these signs are there. To be impeccable in following them will always point me in the direction of my truth.

At tonight's AA meeting, we focused on Step 9 in terms of the amends that we need to make to ourselves first before anyone else we harmed. This could not have been more appropriate, given what arose for me today.

The conversations I have in my head when I've recognized I'm hiding or when I only peek out have been damaging over time. The words I use to berate myself are not kind. I have intimidated myself into remaining in hiding. And then beat myself up for not speaking up, speaking out. And the illusion is that this is being in control. The reality is that it is the fear of losing control that drives the hiding. When I give up the need to be in control, to really allow myself to feel my powerlessness, to show my vulnerability, I am more here and more in relationship with others. And I am no longer hiding.

To make room for my feelings, regardless of how I perceive they will be received, is to honor myself. To be in integrity. To embrace my humanness. To be a living amends for me.

In the land of misfits ...

We're Snow Angels!!
Originally uploaded by GioLovesYou

The speaker at tonight's AA meeting very painstakingly recalled all of the ways in which she didn't "fit" or have a sense of belonging when she drank. This is a very common thread joining alcoholics, as it is replayed over and over again during stories shared in meetings.

Perhaps this is why the famous quote from Shakespeare, "To thine own self be true" is engraved on every AA anniversary coin.

Outside of the rooms, we are in the land of misfits ... not unlike Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer or the elf Herbie who wants to be a dentist in the well-known Christmas special that's been aired since I was a child. The speaker tonight recalled how all she wanted to do was ballet and because of a variety of circumstances in her home, it never came to fruition. And she jumped from 1 thing to another, still feeling like a mishapen puzzle piece. Until she was introduced to alcohol. And then she could turn into anything she had desired to be.

This is the illusion of alcohol. That we are more confident. That we are funny. That we are attractive. The life of the party. Cunning, baffling, powerful. It convinces us that we are all these things and more.

I thought all of these things came true when I poured that magical substance down my throat and felt its spell. I suddenly had self-esteem. I was desirable. I was hysterically funny and everyone wanted to be around me. Lies, Lies, Lies. This is what alcohol will lead you to believe. And then the spell wears off. And you keep chasing those feelings. And you begin to sink. To drown. And then you drink so you don't have to feel as bad as you do. And to not see how ugly you've become. And to not let yourself know that people are now laughing AT you, not with you. It's a vicious cycle.

People shared tonight the myriad of ways that they didn't fit in. Being adopted. Being too short. Being too fat. Being abused. Being gay. Not smart enough. Not good enough. Not enough period.

I have written about many of the ways I didn't fit in. And also how I separated myself. My misfitness was also an illusion, a story I told myself and then convinced myself of. I've learned in my kabbalistic healing that, particularly if our history is dysfunctional which is most often the case for alcoholics, we don't have enough of ourselves. So we shape-shift and change form in order to try to fit, to be accepted, to conform.

And then the miracle happens. Rudolph became the lead reindeer on Santa's sleigh because of his bright snout. Herbie tamed the hairy beast that terrorized everyone by repairing his aching tooth. And one by one, we alcoholics experienced divine intervention that led us through the doors of AA. And when we look around the room and we share our stories of experience, strength and hope, we feel a sense of belonging. We are no longer an outcast, a misfit toy. Someone opens their mouth and what we hear is an echo of our own voice, our own story.

Each time I enter the rooms of AA, there is a chair with my name on it. And I know I belong just as much as the person next to me. In AA, I am coming home to me.